


"Wounded Wolf" Eyes

by jentaro



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: M/M, trans geralt rights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25252453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jentaro/pseuds/jentaro
Summary: They are not puppy dog eyes. They arenot.Jaskier tries very much in vain to keep the upper hand in "punishing" Geralt.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 202





	"Wounded Wolf" Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr prompt that i wrote too much for and liked so I'm posting it here too!! you can find me on tumblr @jennyloggins, or on twitter @somegarbageisok on main and @slimejen on side/fandom :^)
> 
> completely unedited because i am living dangerously today

“The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh,” Jaskier says, staring hard at Geralt where he is kneeling naked on the floor of the inn they are staying at. There is far too much revelry going on downstairs for anyone to care much that a witcher and a bard are taking up space in the rooms, certainly not enough for any curious souls to bother them. They have paid _good_ money for this room, and Jaskier intends on using their night to its most full potential. 

The only response is a quiet whine, and it takes _everything_ in Jaskier not to shiver. Geralt is giving him the ‘wounded wolf’ eyes, as he likes to call them, hoping for mercy where Jaskier has none to give. At least, not right now. If Geralt wants to get off, he will have to do it himself which they _both_ know is payback for Geralt tossing Jaskier in a river three days prior. He’s been simmering with indignation ever since, even though Geralt had been justified in doing so, but he didn’t have to be such a _brute_ about it. 

“My thigh, or nothing at all, darling,” Jaskier says, leaning forward to grab Geralt by the chin. His witcher’s eyes have a depth to them that he could very well get lost in, but Jaskier is adamant about keeping this charade up. He lowers his voice and says, “Or if you’d rather try your luck begging, I might leave you on the floor kneeling right there, maybe go back downstairs and play for the crowd while you wait here desperate for me.”

He can see the complaint on Geralt’s lips, but Jaskier is glad when his words stay in his throat. How nobody has ever fallen to their knees in worship before him, Jaskier will never know. Geralt’s pupils are blown wide, lips parted just enough for him to pant discreetly, wound tight from anticipation. 

Jaskier makes to stand up, and he can see the momentary panic flash in Geralt’s eyes—” _No_.” Geralt swallows when Jaskier lets his chin go, sitting even more still as he says, “Your thigh.”

Smiling wide, Jaskier cups Geralt’s cheek with his palm, stroking his thumb over his cheek. “So good for me, Geralt.” He stands up anyway, pulling the double layer of his shirt and doublet off in one motion, and then nods to Geralt who takes the hint and helps him from his pants. “I would have you suck my cock, but I don’t think you deserve that yet.” 

The thrill of taunting Geralt, him _accepting_ it as if it were the truth that sucking Jaskier off would be a _reward_ for getting himself off… it is unlike anything else in the world. When Geralt gently pushes on his chest to get him to sit, Jaskier’s heartbeat stutters in his chest. The low candlelight makes Geralt look _incredible_ , glorious in a way that surpasses a religious experience. It would be a disservice to compare him to the gods, for Geralt is far more significant to him.

Jaskier’s hands scrabble for the sheet on the bed, leaning back with his elbows locked while Geralt sits on his thigh. Geralt moans quietly, and Jaskier thinks perhaps he _didn’t_ think this out as well as he could have, because he wants nothing more than to lean forward to kiss his witcher. His hands itch to touch skin, to tug on his nipples with his fingers or his teeth. He wants to push him down onto the bed and eat his cunt out until Geralt is a shaking mess, pleading for his cock. 

His own breath is shaking on his lips, Geralt grinding on his thigh and spreading his slick on Jaskier’s skin. A quiet curse followed by a grunt, and Jaskier holds himself back from grabbing him by the hips just _barely_. His hands twitch, letting go of the bedspread, but Geralt pushes Jaskier down onto the bed, grabbing his wrists. Geralt’s growl goes _right_ through him before he’s realized the tables have turned, making Jaskier pout.

“That’s not _fair_ ,” he says, struggling weakly against Geralt’s grip on him.

“You touch me when I get more than your thigh,” the end of it comes out breathy, Geralt moaning while starting to _really_ rut against Jaskier’s thigh. He looks _gorgeous_ like this, eyes closed as he takes his pleasure, shoulders shaking imperceptibly to anyone who hasn’t fucked a witcher before. 

Jaskier makes a ‘ _hmph_ ’ sound instead, not wanting to give in just yet, but _oh_ it is nearly impossible. Especially when Geralt whimpers again, panting hard and soaking Jaskier’s thigh with how wet he is. His own hips push up off the bed, making Jaskier _viscerally_ aware of how badly he wants to be touched and how much he wants Geralt to ride him. When Geralt bites his lips and gives Jaskier that half-lidded, _burning_ stare, he caves. “Fine, _fine_ fine fine, Geralt, _please_.”

Geralt lets his hands go and Jaskier’s hands go to his hips, guiding him to straddle him fully. Geralt is on the same page, lining up Jaskier’s cock and lowering himself down onto it with a groan. With his hands free, Jaskier starts by squeezing Geralt’s hips, pushing his hands up his sides and then to his chest, thumbing over his nipples, and only then does he pull Geralt down by the neck for a bruising kiss. His hips push up into Geralt, meeting his cunt with an obscene sound that makes both of them moan—his own is broken, overwhelmed _very_ suddenly by how how surrounded by Geralt he is. His sounds, and his taste, the solid weight of him, the feel of his cunt around him and of his body underneath Jaskier’s roaming hands. 

His darling witcher comes first with a loud whine of Jaskier’s name, bearing down on him while he’s fucked through it. Jaskier isn’t done yet, close, but not _enough_. Flipping them is easier than Jaskier expected, but once Geralt is laying back on the bed, Jaskier spreads his legs and lines himself back up while kneeling on the bed. When he pushes back in, Geralt bites down on his lip to stifle a cry, which just will _not_ do. 

“Let me hear you, love,” Jaskier says while reaching up and smoothing his thumb over Geralt’s bottom lip, pushing his teeth back so he can rub the spit-slick skin. If he is wary of anyone else hearing, even Jaskier has noticed the increase of raucous of applause from downstairs as the night’s act continues pleasing the drunken audience. 

It works well enough, Geralt moans again, reaching for Jaskier to pull him back into another kiss while his hips speed up, changing the angle. Reaching between them, Jaskier thumbs at Geralt’s cock, trying his best to quickly build him back up to another orgasm. He is _much_ closer now, Geralt shuddering beneath him telling him that his efforts are paying off by how he’s moving his hips to try and get more friction. Geralt comes again suddenly, Jaskier following moments later with a hoarse shout of Geralt’s name against his white wolf’s lips.

Which is about as much energy as he has, considering how long their day had been before they had reached this town. When he pulls out, it’s with a rush of his semen leaking down onto the sheets, but it is _not_ a problem for them to care much about. Rather, Jaskier plasters his sweaty self to Geralt’s side after he gets up to get something to clean them off with, also blowing out the candle on the low table next to the bed. 

After a couple of minutes, Jaskier says, “I forgive you for throwing me into the river.”

Geralt does his little wordless ‘hmm’ that Jaskier adores so much, and that is fine by him.


End file.
